


Honing His Skills

by Laeviss



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Gangbang, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple creampie, Telepathy, boss/employee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 07:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeviss/pseuds/Laeviss
Summary: After Wrathion secures a date with King Anduin Wrynn, he decides it's time to learn a few tricks to seduce him.





	Honing His Skills

**Author's Note:**

> Wrathion is trans.

“I have a date with King Anduin Wrynn this weekend, dearest Thellar, and I may need your help.”

Wrathion let out a sigh, snapping closed his copy of _Savage Passions_ and tossing it onto the floor. Always one for dramatics, he made a show of rising to his feet, approaching the night elf with a certain gleam in his eye. Behind him, Left and Right exchanged glances. He took a moment to circle around the rogue, and then nodded at Reade, who uncrossed his arms and pulled down his mask to reveal a hint of a smile. 

“As you probably know, King Anduin has matured since we last spent time together.” Wrathion slid a clawed hand up to toy with the kaldorei’s hair, tucking a stray white lock behind the man’s ear and earning a half-concealed tremble. He was glad to see that little had changed since Pandaria. The rogue’s cheeks still burned when he looked up at him, and he still bit his lip when Wrathion murmured his name. 

_This one will do,_ he whispered into Right’s thoughts, and soon she was at his side. She touched the kaldorei’s arm, and he squared his shoulders: flustered, and a little confused. Her expression, on the other hand, remained unchanged, and she waited until Wrathion took a step back to guide him into a chair.

“I, on the other hand, have been preoccupied with the state of the world. I am not saying I’m _out of practice_ , of course, but just that I want to refine my skills. Our king deserves only the best. As a champion of the Alliance, I’m sure you agree.”

It had sounded more polished when he went through the lines last night, but luckily Thellar seemed too distracted by the way he moved to care. He could feel the elf studying him as he wandered past Reade to the window; he could hear his breath hitch when he drew closed the curtains and blocked out the Elwynn sunset. Now all that was left was the soft candles’ glow, and Wrathion’s eyes—blood red and striking—when he turned back to meet his gaze.

“And so you may say this is a personal mission, of sorts. Champion, I am offering you a rare opportunity to lay with your prince this evening.”

He paused, and watched Thellar’s mouth fall open. He could have sworn he heard the elf’s heart in his chest, and it filled him with confidence. Standing up straighter, he smirked, and, quite deliberately, pulled off his glove. He tossed it aside, and murmured, no, purred, as he slid his nail under the night elf’s chin. 

“All I ask for in return is your absolute discretion, and, of course, any help you can offer in learning to please my king.”

____________________

It was only after the rogue was escorted into the adjacent bed chamber that Wrathion let down his guard. Sinking into the chair where his champion had sat only moments before, he fumbled a bit in unlatching his sash and dropped it—unceremonious—on the floor. His pauldrons soon joined the pile. His fingers shook as he reached up to unwind his turban.

Sexy was easy. He had charmed and murmured and winked at his rogues throughout his short life, and the outcome was largely the same. They bowed their heads and did what he said. He laid on the charisma, and they took the bait. Exuding confidence, nobody questioned him. 

But sex...was different, and there was no getting around it.

For all his teasing, and all the times he had made Anduin blush, for all his sly forays into romance and the vulgarities his agents had taught him, every time he actually had the prince in his bed things went largely the same: Anduin crawled between his legs and kissed him, desperate, as their hips rocked together. He wrapped his legs around his waist and clung to him as he moved. The lights were off, and it was over _so fast_. 

Which was fine, for curious teenagers sneaking around in the night. But Anduin was a grown man, and a king, and the last thing Wrathion needed was to come back looking _inferior_. There were things that couldn’t be learned from a novel, and he was ready for them, desperate for them, even. 

With one last tug, he uncovered his head, and shook his hair free. Curls tickled his ears and parted around his developing horns, and he ran his fingers through them, consciously, carefully. He could do this, he reminded himself, as he removed his tunic. Sexy and confident. That’s what his agents expected. Sexy.

And confident. Squeezing closed his eyes to fight back a blush, he stepped out of his pants and kicked them across the room. Swallowing, he knocked on the door, painfully conscious of the hitch in his breath and the tightness constricting his throat.

“I’m ready.” For this. For everyone. He tried his voice again, and willed it to sound like his own, “Yes, I am coming in now. I hope you are—”

Reade cut him off, cracking open the door just enough to spill light across the bare skin of his chest. “We’re ready,” he said, but his tone had...changed from his usual business to something Wrathion hardly recognized. His hand pressed against the door frame at least a foot above Wrathion’s head, and his gaze moved from his face to his chest, then to his abdomen, then followed the trail of hair down between his legs. Wrathion’s mouth went dry. His agent’s pants did nothing to conceal the bulge pressing against their buttons. 

“Yes, of course,” Wrathion started, but Left’s growl filled their thoughts, and soon she had inserted herself between Reade and the door. 

_Out of the way. You’re making him nervous._

_No, ah-! Left, it is fine, really. This is what we're here for, is it not? There is no reason to scold him for me._

But the orc seemed less than convinced. Her lips curled in disgust as she stared up at Reade. Resting a hand against Wrathion’s shoulder, neither gentle nor firm, she helped him cross into the room, leading him to stand in the light at the foot of the bed, to take in the scene in front of him.

Unlike Left, who still wore most of her Blacktalon uniform, both Right and his champion were just as naked as him, waiting for him on his full-sized bed. Right’s legs were spread open, and Wrathion soon realized why:

Left had been there moments before, and now they were heading back to pick up what the orc must have started. Thellar rested against her arm, chest rising and falling, and they were both looking at _him_.

Wrathion’s knees nearly gave out; he didn’t know where he should focus. He stumbled a little less gracefully than he intended against the corner of the mattress, but luckily Left was there to rest a hand against his back, helping him up before he could lose any face. Recovering, crawling between Right’s open legs, he turned to Thellar, and managed to murmur, “I hope everyone’s been having fun.”

“Yes,” the elf swallowed, and nodded. Wrathion slid his hand from Right’s knee to the top of her thigh, watching Thellar react, feeling him pressing in closer with his own hand wrapped around the base of his hardening cock. 

Wrathion’s confidence swelled, and he leaned up onto his knees, one hand resting against the kaldorei’s cheek while the other teased between Right’s parted lips. She trembled, and Thellar tilted up for a kiss, brushing against his mouth before moving to his ear. Hot breath ruffled Wrathion’s hair as he shifted. The dragon paused, drawing in a long breath before rolling the pad of his thumb over Right’s swollen clit.

 _Ah!_ Her hips jerked. And though she wouldn’t say why, he knew: claw. 

_Oops._ Flustered, he leaned back against the night elf, exhaling a small curl of smoke that he hoped went unnoticed. _Sorry, sorry._

_We’re here to please you, your Highness. Please, sit back and let me touch you._

Unable to look too hard at her, or at anyone, he leaned back onto his heels, allowing the human to slip out from under him. The night elf let out a small, surprised noise, before moving to accommodate, guiding Wrathion to lean against his chest as he nuzzled the dragon’s neck. His hand moved to Wrathion’s back. He murmured and gasped as long fingers wrapped around his cheek and gave him a squeeze, and soon Right’s smaller hand had joined him, trailing down the curve of his waist. 

Shivering, he didn’t know which way to lean. He settled for pressing between them, one arm draped over Thellar’s shoulder while his other palm cupped Right’s soft breast. He could feel the rise and fall of her breath, sense the moan that built in the back of her thoughts, and then Thellar was kissing him again, tongue seeking his as their exhales mingled between parted lips. 

The elf’s finger dipped down to tease at his opening; Wrathion gasped, arcing his back and shaking, desperate, against the long, careful digit. “Ah, champion~! Fuck~!” Was all he could manage, on the heels of a shudder that threatened to claim his voice. The elf muffled it with his lips. He could feel Right’s chuckle beneath his palm as she whispered, silent, into his mind.

_I like this one._

Wrathion had to agree. _He’s gentle, yes. That’s why I chose him._

And then Left—gruff, and still more composed— joined in. _He reminds me of Anduin._

Ah, he had almost forgotten that they weren’t alone. Even though the elf couldn’t hear, he flustered, breaking the kiss to nuzzle— and hide his face—up in Right’s tousled hair. _Ah, yes, well. I have my reasons._

Behind him, he could feel Reade shifting his weight; his now-open belt clanged as he moved, and Wrathion’s face burned when he realized what kind of view the human must have. But he couldn’t let that distract him. No.

He swallowed, and, desperate to regain control, released his hold on Right to press a hand just beneath Thellar’s collarbone. With a gentle shove, the night elf fell back, and Wrathion missed his touch. But he had a mission that he needed to complete. He needed to focus, to learn, to stare down into the elf’s golden eyes and muster some kind of a confident look as he whispered, just like he’d heard his rogues do. 

“Let me suck your dick”

The vulgarity seemed to catch Thellar off guard. His ears reddened, just like Anduin’s had the first time he tried it on him, but oh, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t let his mind wander there. 

“Spread your legs, champion,” he all but commanded, and reached his hand down to Thellar’s hardened shaft. 

The throb in his palm came as a welcome distraction, and the eyes watching around him mirrored the elf’s lustful gaze as he whimpered a soft “Prince Wrathion...” The dragon grinned and dipped down on his elbows. Now only inches away from the head of his cock, he exhaled, letting hot breath swirl in the space between them, and the rogue threw back his head.

Distracting himself with his champion’s body eased some of his own embarrassment. Flicking his tongue across his lower lip, he murmured, eyes glowing, “Mmh. You are eager, aren’t you, champion? I hope you enjoy this reward for your service.”

And then, trying to look as confident as his words made him sound, he leaned forward and traced the tip of his tongue from the top to the base of his shaft. 

Thellar’s cock...was large, or larger, at least, than the only one he had previously touched. He probably should have expected as much from a kaldorei, but at least he had length rather than girth with which to contend. He ran his hand up over his head a few times, trying to get his bearings, and then returned with his tongue, swirling and earning a twitch and a sigh that left Wrathion feeling triumphant. 

Gripping him, he leaned forward. Ever mindful of his sharp teeth—those teeth that had made him too nervous to suck on Anduin, too afraid of scraping his sensitive skin—he opened his mouth, and, carefully, ambitiously, replaced his tongue’s touch with his lips. 

The night elf moaned, but held his hips still, letting Wrathion press back his skin and suck on the tip of his head. A salty tinge to his scent and the way his slit tasted against Wrathion’s tongue betrayed how worked up the rogue already was, and Wrathion grinned around him, murmuring, then sucking, trying his best to encourage the leak and the twitch of his shaft against the dragon’s hand.

It tasted good, and he was confident. Too confident, perhaps, in the show he was giving: in Thellar’s eyes staring down into his, in Right’s breath near his ear, and in the slap of Reade’s hand working free his own cock from the last confines of his pants. 

Then Thellar’s cock hit the back of his throat, and he had to fight not to gag. Too much, he scolded himself, and Right must have sensed his unease because she leaned down and kissed the nape of his neck. 

Wrathion slid up, and murmured, conscious, now, of the soft breasts that rested against his back. Wrapping her arm around him, Right toyed with his nipple. He trembled, giving Thellar a few shaky strokes, and then opened to try again.

Extending his thoughts to Right, he let the sensation—the jolt of his nerves and the pleasure that followed—pass between them. Encouraged, she trailed her hand from his chest to his abs, then followed the line of soft hair to the curls below. She lingered, running her fingers through them, before finally reaching his clit. He was swollen, so swollen, and ready, and when she brushed over the nub they both let out a cry. 

He jerked, and shuddered, and when he fell forward, she wasn’t ready to catch him. Instead he buried his nose in the hair around Thellar’s shaft, trying his best to hold still, to compose himself, to get himself back on track.

But rather than chiding, the elf ghosted a hand through his curls and along the curve of his horn. “I am glad the prince is enjoying himself,” he murmured, and with that he forgot to care about the fire that burned on his cheeks.

And when Wrathion finally got back on his knees, Right’s hand was ready to meet him, squaring his hips against hers and returning to rub his clit. His body rocked forward, but he pressed his hand against the mattress, the other one tightening around the base of his champion’s shaft. Sucking and stilling and letting out muffled cries as focus and pleasure overtook him in turn, he squeezed closed his eyes. Something inside him seized up. He gasped. Moaned. Threw his head back, and—

“Fuck~!”

He managed, but it was more of a cry than a word. There was a flash, and then all he could do was press back into Right’s chest and tremble like there was nobody left but them. She held him. He closed his eyes. Warmth spread over his body, and he didn’t know Thellar has shifted until he felt a strong hand pressed against the curve of his cheek. 

“Prince Wrathion...” The kaldorei’s beard tickled his chin as he claimed his lips in a kiss. Wrathion’s eyes slid open, their crimson glow spreading across his face as he nodded, scooted closer.

“Champion...”

The night elf’s hands felt so big wrapped around his hips. He yielded, leaving behind Right’s embrace to slide into his lap, keenly aware of the hitch in his breath and the way his thighs shook when he moved to straddle his waist. Long fingers slid up the gentle curve of his side, then wandered across his chest.

It was as if the elf wanted to learn every scar, every change in color and texture he had always hid under the blankets when Anduin started exploring. He shuddered; the night elf’s hand dropped between his legs, rubbing his sensitive clit before pressing between his lips, smearing the juices he found there. He was...very wet. He blushed, but his hips rolled forward forward to meet the man’s touch, and he dug his nails in the headboard.

The rogue’s touch was soft, almost too soft, and every time he slid forward Wrathion struggled not to cry or collapse or lose his balance again. Oversensitive skin sparked to life beneath the pad of his finger, and he squeezed his eyes closed. His body tensed, but he managed a short, labored sigh, and a strained “lay down.” 

And his champion did what he asked.

Logistically, Wrathion knew what he was supposed to do. But trying to shift his weight back over the night elf’s cock, to position himself and sink down, proved harder than he had anticipated. Instead the shaft pressed between his lips and _rubbed_ and an undignified noise rose high in his throat, legs tensing, Thellar gasping beneath him. He was so tempted to do it again, but no. He had a mission.

He had to learn what to do, not to fumble, when he climbed up in Anduin’s lap. Biting his lip and knitting his brows, he willed his hand to stop shaking as he wrapped it around the base of the kaldorei’s shaft. He strained up onto his knees, then guided the head to his hole. His breath hitched. He sank down, and then it pressed in.

He felt a slight stretch, and then fullness: a deep, pleasant ache that spread up inside of him, and all he could do was moan. The rogue’s own exhale came together with his, and they settled, and stared, Thellar clutching the sheets beneath him and Wrathion trying to catch his breath. He was keenly aware of it all—the night elf’s length, his clit now buried in the hair at his base, the way the sensation changed when he shifted his weight, even his agents’ eyes watching him and all of the pleasure that brought. It was so much. Pleasure washed over him. He tightened, then felt the elf gasp:

“Please, your Highness,” Thellar’s hands left the bed, wrapping around Wrathion’s ass and squeezing, spreading him, even, and rolling his hips. “Please, so tight...” Behind him, Reade let out an audible groan, and Wrathion might have felt sorry for him if he weren’t so _distracted_ by the cock pressed against him in all the right ways.

But all he could do was lean back into the night elf’s grasp, lifting his hips and then sinking. Feeling him pressing inside. He drew in a shaky breath. Eyes closed, jaw clenched. Rising, then sliding back down. Pressing him deeper, and giving in to that jolt that threatened to take control. 

The bed shifted beneath them, and when Wrathion finally opened his eyes, he realized that Right had rolled onto the pillow beside them. Left soon joined her, spreading her lover’s legs and settling in between them to flick her clit with her tongue. Right arched her back, and looked up at him. 

The wordless moan on her lips was soon joined by a telepathic _look good..._

Do I?

He smirked, or, at least, tried to smirk, interrupted, again, when his body sank down. She nodded and bit her lip in response, thighs twitching against the orc’s face. 

_You’re getting him off. Look at him._

_Look at you,_ he chided, just as Right threw back her head and cried out. Left murmured between her lips. Her foot struggled for purchase as a tremor spread through her, and Wrathion opened his mouth. 

He was ready to tease, but something inside him jolted. He rocked forward; Thellar dug his nails into his skin and thrust up, making him ride the sensation, the tension that clenched deep inside him.”Oh, champion~!” were the only words he could find, not flirty, but honest. Unabashed, and even a little bit desperate.

It was hard not to need this when everything felt _so_ good. 

And Thellar seemed to agree. The rogue all but whimpered; he tightened his grip, emboldened passed caution, and plunged up in one sudden jerk. His lips parted, and the words tumbled out like a gasp, a whine, an almost panicked, “Can I?”

“Of course,” Wrathion sank himself down; his knees tightened around the elf’s hips. “Yes, Thellar. Please...”

The kaldorei’s hand hit the mattress. His body tensed beneath Wrathion, and he squeezed closed his eyes, twitching, thrusting up, letting out a small cry before sinking back into the bed. The dragon dipped forward to drape his arms over his chest, forehead pressing between his pecs and lips forming a sigh that got lost beneath Thellar’s staggered breaths. 

His softening cock slid out; Wrathion quivered, feeling the cum leave a trail down his thigh. And at once, he felt bereft of that fullness. He needed more.

_Reade?_

_What is it, boss?_ The human’s voice flooded his mind—husky and labored and just as eager as Wrathion had expected. 

He struggled not to sound quite as lustful, but only with little success. _You should come over and fuck me._

Left and Right turned from their own tangled embrace to shoot him a look, but he had already made up his mind. Arcing his back and lifting his hips in the air, he waited, insistent. Gruff human hands grasped his sides, tugging him off of Thellar and back to bend over the foot of the bed. 

“Fuck, ah!” His agent gave him no warning. His claws scratched the sheets, and then the cock forced inside of him, slamming him forward. The mattress creaked. Wrathion buried his face in the covers, hoping to muffle his own incoherence. “Ah, Reade, good, please.”

The man thrust again. His hair tickled his cheeks. The head of his cock pressed against him, and again his knees buckled, a tremor claiming his thighs as Reade hit him _just right_. It was undignified, he knew, but he lifted his head and whimpered, “More. Please...”

And Reade wouldn’t let his boss down.

The pirate from Southshore was...nothing like Anduin Wrynn, from the smell of rum on his breath to the callouses on every finger, but when he bit down on Wrathion’s neck and dug his nails into his shoulders, the dragon’s clit ached for attention. With Thellar’s cum wetting his lips, there was nothing to hinder the human. He all but slapped against him, clutching his shoulders for leverage and _using_ him to get off. It left the prince weak, moaning and shaking and hiding his blush in the mattress. He forced his hand under his hips. Catching his clit between finger and thumb, he gave it a much-needed jerk.

“I should fuck your ass.” Oh no. Wrathion couldn’t be sure if Reade’s growl had come through his mind or his ears, but either way it left his face burning. Panting, he glanced up at the crowd on the bed, but before he got their approval Reade had pushed him back down. “Bet you’d like that, your Highness.”

“-Ah-!”

“Hm, what was that?” One of Reade’s hand moved from his back to the front of his neck, tilting him up for a breath. He glanced through Reade’s eyes, and saw himself down below, flustered and shaking and probably never able to look the man square in the face again, but at least he could feel Reade’s own need setting in. His desperation, and Wrathion’s body hot and wet and tight around him. Coming together, the pleasure was almost too much, for Wrathion and for his agent. There was some kind of power in that.

 _You’re close,_ Wrathion lifted and rolled back his hips. _Cum in me._

Reade’s own snicker fell silent as his breath caught in his throat. He gasped out a short “Yes boss,” then set back into his pace, rocking the bed and the small dragon pushed down beneath him. Wrathion shuddered; his hand worked his clit, shaking as a tremble raced through him, tugging as something inside him clenched tight.

It built with each thrust. If not for the hand in his hair Wrathion would have jerked back, but all he could do was muffle his scream in the bed and dig his toes into the floor. Gasping, shaking, yielding as tension unfurled and he hit his release on Reade’s cock. Everything disappeared. There was only heat, that feeling...

Wetness and cum dripping down his leg, and his heart pounding deep in his chest. 

And Reade’s hands under his arms as he helped him back onto the bed. 

Wrathion curled up for a moment, willing his breath to fall even. When he finally opened his eyes, he realized Left’s arms were around him, and that she had helped him between Right and Thellar. Settling against her, he let out a sigh. Reade seemed to be cleaning him up, but, worn out as he was, it was hard to be sure.

 _Well, that went well for you, I hope._ Right’s voice was as soft in his thoughts as it was when she whispered against his cheek, “Your Highness.”

Thellar lifted his head to watch, blinking as if he knew he was missing something. Nobody offered to explain. Left just nodded, and added, still silent, _The mission should be a success._

_The mission?_

_To seduce the king._

_Ah, yes. Of course._ Another flush overcame him, and he rested his forehead against Right’s shoulder, thinking of Anduin’s face. He had never seen Anduin’s face when he hit his release. He was going to have to remedy that. 

That goal alone should be mission enough for his upcoming visit to Stormwind. 

_But of course, we shall see._

____________________

Wrathion made his way to the Keep just as the sun started to disappear behind the skyline at his back. A statue of King Varian Wrynn cast a shadow across his path: an irony that did not escape him, of course, as he approached the door with Left and Right flanking his sides.

They exchanged glances. He waited, and straightened his new silk tunic, before moving a hand up to smooth out his hair. Mustering a confident grin, he tucked a few stray curls back behind his horns. With the Stormwind guard watching his every move, he shot a glance over his shoulder, pretending their dismay was directed at Left and certainly not at him. 

She looked back, as grim as ever, but Right cut in with a short _the King._

Wrathion jerked his attention back to the door, to the guards stepping aside to let through an armor-clad Anduin Wrynn. The setting sun caught in his hair and on the gold of his pauldrons; Wrathion could have sworn he was shining, and, knowing Anduin, it wouldn’t have come as a shock. He flashed what he hoped was a charming smile, and approached, taking the last few stone stairs. 

Anduin’s gaze met his, and the breath caught in his throat. Even on level ground, Anduin towered a foot above him, cutting an imposing figure armored and guarded like Wrathion had never seen. The dragon swallowed, cursing himself for not wearing his turban, for trying to look less dramatic when the king put on a display like this. They stood for a moment in silence; Wrathion flushed, and a grin changed Anduin’s face.

His eyes glittered just like they had that night on the shores of Kun’lai, and in a flash of childish joy, he extended his hand to clasp Wrathion’s shoulder, “Prince Wrathion!”

Titans, he felt so small under the king’s armored glove, which is why Anduin’s next comment came as a shock.

“You’ve grown.”

“I-” Wrathion opened his mouth to retort, but then snapped it closed, cheeks darkening despite his best efforts to will his embarrassment away. But when he looked back up at Anduin, he saw the same heat pass over his face, and realized the tease was as awkward as it was playful, as flustered as it was mischievous. 

Wrathion coughed, bowed his head, and when he looked up again, it was with flashing eyes, a sly laugh, and the confidence that he was affecting Anduin in much the same way as he always had. He reached up to touch the king’s cheek, ignoring the clatter of guards tensing around them as he murmured,

“Funny, dear king. You haven’t changed a bit.”


End file.
